The story of Bronte Jennings
by Madame Elodie
Summary: Bronte Jennings met him in 2006, when she was 13 years old. He met her in a cafe when she was 25. As the Doctor and Rose try to save the young girl from unearthly dangers, her 25 yr old self struggles with her new job at Torchwood, gaining the attention o
1. Chapter 1

A tall brunette girl sat alone in Starbucks. She didn't seem to be waiting for anybody and had ordered a very fatty drink, much to the disapproval of the slim-line blonde behind the counter.

It was the year 2018 and The TARDIS had landed in London. Rose had wanted to do some shopping in their futuristic location and so the Doctor sat alone in Starbucks observing the girl at the table across from his.

He wasn't looking, much. He just thought that she looked odd, sitting there doing her Sudoku puzzle. Sudoku had long since gone out of fashion and her attire was completely different from the other girls of her age group. She wore clothes that were in fashion in Rose's time, A pair of worn in jeans, a green canvas Jacket and a White v-neck top. Her feet were up on the table revealing, in the Doctor's opinion the best part of her dress, A pair of dirty, worn in, Converse All-stars by the looks of them, designed in 2005. She sat with her mobile phone on the table next to her. She absently chewed on her pen, rolling it between her teeth as she worked out the numbers for her puzzle. No, The Doctor wasn't looking at her because he fancied her, Rose held that title, but he looked at her because she was different and unique.

The girl in question was looking at the Doctor too. She thought he looked handsome and different, not at all like the men she usually saw. Hoping he would come over, She sat back in her chair, feet up on the table and chewed on her pen.

'_Just act cool, just act cool' _She thought. Unfortunately, this thought was replaced by another when the pen leaked in her mouth, causing her to scream and causing blue ink to cover her tongue and dribble down her chin.

"SHIT!"

Seeing this, the Doctor leant forward and gave her a handful of napkins, to which she accepted with an embarrassed sigh. She dabbed at her tongue and said,

"Thank you."

"It's alright. I was sitting over here and I noticed that you were doing a Sudoku puzzle. I haven't seen those for years!" The Doctor gave her an award-winning grin, to which she replied with a smile and an inaudible giggle 12 yr-old style.

"Do you mind if I join you?" The Doctor asked. Before she could stutter anything, he had moved his chair round to her table.

They talked for about half an hour until the girl's phone went off. The name displayed on the screen clearly said 'BLAIRE'. The girl checked the screen, sighed and didn't answer.

"That's not important." She smiled at the Doctor. There was something familiar about him. She didn't usually allow men to come and sit with her in a café. Actually, she didn't usually visit café's at 3pm on a workday. Today she had taken a 'mental health day', a day off work that was so popular with her co-workers. In her line of work, you needed these days. She sat looking at the Doctor for a while as she tried to remember where she had seen him before.

Once again her phone rang and once again she checked the screen. This time, however, the name on the screen said 'JACK'. She shot up and answered it immediately.

After a three-minute conversation, she hung up and turned to the Doctor.

"I'm sorry, I have to go into work." She put the puzzle and the phone into her bag and smiled once again.

"It was nice meeting you…"

"Bronte. My name's Bronte. You are…" Bronte smiled. Now she was going to get her answers.

"The Doctor. I'm the Doctor." The Doctor turned and left the café, leaving Bronte stood in the same position.

'_THE Doctor. No! That was impossible. He died 12 years ago!'_


	2. Chapter 2

The Girl on the Estate

Rose had insisted they go home. Being the kind and worldly gentleman that the Doctor was, he agreed. It had nothing to do with the fact that her jeans showed her bottom off beautifully.

It had been a week since he had met Bronte in the café, and he'd quite forgotten about her. His encounter with Bronte wouldn't happen for another twelve years, and the only chance of him meeting her again, was if he bumped into her thirteen-year-old self in the street.

Jackie had asked Rose to go and get some milk from the corner shop, so The Doctor went with her, frightened at the thought of staying in the flat with Jackie.

They walked down the street, ignoring the crude remarks of the hoodies that sat on their bikes and hung around the streetlights.

A girl of about thirteen walked across the tarmac courtyard of the Powell estate. She wore an old-fashioned school uniform, with Italian designer shoes and a Louis Vuitton bag. Her hair was impeccably neat and tidy, held back with a clip of real silver. Every now and then, she checked the piece of paper in her hand.

The Doctor and Rose stood outside she corner shop, the Doctor moaning and whining because he was sure the woman behind the counter had short changed him.

Rose, on the other hand was staring at the group of hoodies. They seemed excited or something, and were shouting lots of abuse at someone.

One of the group moved away from the circle, letting Rose get a good look at what was going on.

A teenage girl was being pursued by the hoodies. They were following her and making a special effort to make her uncomfortable.

"So, yes. That woman short changed me!" The Doctor stopped talking suddenly, realising that Rose was taking no notice.

"Rose Tyler, are you listening to me?" The Doctor glared at his companion.

"No." she replied bluntly.

"Look over there." Rose instructed as the girl started to run. The hoodies chased her and started looking violent.

"Oh my god. We've got to stop them."

Rose ran forward.

The hoodies caught up with the girl and yanked her backpack away from her, spilling the contents on to the floor.

"OI!" Rose yelled. " Leave her alone or you'll have me to deal with."

The hoodies laughed.

"Fine then. Leave her alone or you'll have my mum to deal with."

That did it. The Hoodies mumbled something and turned around.

The girl was staring at the ground, trying desperately to gather her belongings together.

"My god. You're a Palmer's girl. What're you doing here, sweetheart? Coming around here dressed like that is just asking for trouble."

"Yes, thank you." The girl replied with a terribly upper-class voice.

She saw her book on the floor and scrambled to reach it. However the Doctor got there first.

"Pride and Prejudice. A great classic, I prefer Wuthering Heights myself." The Doctor handed over the book and gave the girl one of his grins.

"So, what are you doing here?" Rose asked.

"I was looking for this address." She said. She handed Rose the piece of paper.

"Oh, that's over in that block there." Rose pointed to a tower adjacent to them.

"Thank you. May I ask, what's your name?"

"I'm Rose and this is The Doctor." The Doctor waved.

"That's not really a name. That's a title."

"Well, books have titles, but you still say that they are called something." The Doctor replied, tugging his left ear as he always did when he was trying to come up with an answer.

"Oh…"

"And what's your name, sweetheart?" Rose piped up.

"Bronte. Bronte Jennings." And with that she walked off, in the direction Rose had earlier pointed out.

The Doctor stood, momentarily paralysed.

'It can't be. I'm sure there are lots of thirteen-year-old brown haired girls in London called Bronte.

Oh Shit'.


	3. The business girl

**The business girl**

2018-

Checking her make-up in the lift on her way, Bronte arrived on the 3rd floor of the Torchwood building. She knocked once on the door of the personnel office and went straight in. The room was simply furnished – a window in one corner overlooking the Thames, A small waiting area in the other and a large desk in the middle. Walking quickly over to the desk, she took her ID out of her vintage Gucci bag and gave it to the secretary.

"Jennings, Ambassador of the MI6 alliance." She recited. Often, her identification had been thought inadequate, not permitting her to levels of importance. Unlike her new Torchwood colleagues, Bronte was technically and legally an MI6 employee. A few months ago, the 'Head honcho' of Torchwood, Yvonne Hartman, joined forces with the government service to work on a confidential project. Due to a recent promotion, this had meant Bronte now worked with a Torchwood team of specialists from Cardiff, most of whom she had received a frosty welcome. The leader of the project had taken an interest in her though, much to the disapproval of his second in command.

Bronte smiled her goodbyes and stalked off down the corridor to the main observatory – her team's quarters. Typing in the access code quickly, she entered the room.

It was a round room with a high ceiling and balcony. The walls were barren apart from a small window to the right of the door. A large desk filled the centre of the room, connecting with the smaller desks lining it. A tall man stood hunched over some paperwork on the main desk. He heard her enter and looked up.

"So much for a bloody day off Harkness." She whined as she set down her bag and went to join him. He smiled at her and winked.

"Nice to see you to. And may I say, you're looking lovely today." His American accent made her blush slightly, yet she remained in control and showed no sign of her growing weakness.

"What do you want, Harkness? You didn't say much on the phone." She raised an inquisitive eyebrow at him.

"Oh yes. New lead on what's sucking up all of that energy. We got a team meeting in Yvonne's office." Jack crossed the room, filing papers into large cabinets.

"Well, what's the lead? Do we have an assignment?" Bronte tried to keep up with his pace, yet failed and fell behind. He turned abruptly and smiled again.

"I do know that you're gonna have to did out your heels, your push up bra and know simple phrases in French." And with that, he left – leaving a puzzled Bronte behind him.

Upon entering the fourth floor conference room, one may start to believe that they have just entered an air hanger. The ceilings were freakishly high, the walls bear and grey. Windows lined the entire of the left wall. Seats had been set out facing a presentation board. The rest of Bronte's team were already waiting for them.

One the left sat Toshiko Sato, next to her Suzie Costello, Owen Harper and Ianto Jones. Sitting on the other side of the room was Gwen Cooper. She and Bronte hadn't exactly become friends in the few months Bronte had been stationed at Torchwood. In fact, they'd hardly spoken to each other except when it was necessary.

The doors behind them opened and Yvonne Hartman entered the room, her high-heeled boots clacking up to the podium. Bronte took a seat near the back away from the rest of the team.

"New evidence has traced the source of the over excessive energy that has caused a disturbance. As you all know, we have been having trouble tracking the cause down, but our experiments have proved useful. We have located the source and the company behind it." Yvonne flicked through the pile of cue cards on the podium.

"Wait, company?" Suzie questioned.

"Yes. A franchise has been using the energy." Yvonne looked around.

"What for?"

"That's what you need to find out. The company is called 'Beauchamp' it's an up and coming designer, storming Paris and New York with its models, clothes and supposed 'breath taking shows'. I want you to fly out to New York and undercover what that designer's doing with that energy. To get the first hand information, Jack and another team member will be going undercover at Vogue Magazine." Yvonne looked at Jack who merely nodded.

"Jack will go undercover as a design reporter. He and his partner will work one week in New York, finding evidence and getting close to the designers, and the next week in Paris for Fashion week, where Vogue will be doing a special on Beauchamp. It's at this time we will execute our plan to cut off the energy supply without alerting the world to our doing so." Yvonne finished. Gwen sat up and look around before saying,

"Are we all going to New York and Paris?"

"Yes. Well, not me. But you all are. For back up when needed. You will be leaving Paris two days before Jack and his partner, as they will have to try and act casual. We don't want anyone looking into us now do we?" Yvonne stepped back on her heel.

"And who is Jack's partner?" Gwen asked, hope filtering into her voice.

"I think that's Miss Jennings." Yvonne looked to Jack who nodded. His face was serious, almost grumpy. You didn't have to be familiar with his intimate feelings to know that two weeks of Fashion freaks and stylists wasn't exactly his idea of an alien-hunting job.

Bronte tried to act calm as her teammates turned around to look at her.

"Bronte, you will be working as the second assistant to the Editor in chief. We don't want anyone to be suspicious, so you have to look the part and act like everyone else." Yvonne finished with a half smile.

Later, Jack took her aside and told her the 'dangers' of the operation.

"And if a hungry model starts to look at you in a funny way, run!" He ignored Bronte's sarcastic response and carried on, " Just to be clear, this isn't a very exciting operation. Usually we deal with much more serious matters. This probably isn't going to be fun. But hey, you're stuck with it and so am I." Jack smiled at Bronte. She smiled and shook her head slightly.

"Does this mean I'm going to have to go on a diet?" She asked amusedly.

"Most probably." Came the reply.

Owen called jack over for something, leaving Bronte to think about her lousy life and the fact she had met the ghost of her childhood torments earlier..

_' I need to ask Jack about the Doctor' _ She thought and went to join him at the desk

Jack was flirting with Owen tremendously, standing too close and making suggestive comments. Bronte was used to this, he'd done it with everyone – even her on the odd occasion. But he never stood _Too_ close and never touched. He was openly bi-sexual; She'd grown to deal with that. She learned so much about this in the past few months yet knew so little about him to satisfy her curiosity. She was attracted to him – who wouldn't be – yet didn't quite understand him, didn't understand his reasons and actions. She looked at him for a minute and decided now wasn't the time to question him about knowledge of the Doctor.

Instead, she shuffled over to a table holding documents of interest for the case and examined her 'new employer' at Vogue Magazine.

2006-

Laughing, The Doctor and Rose strolled hand in hand back to the TARDIS. They had just defeated the Zourg, A rather nasty race with the ambition to take over a little mountain village in the Himalayas.

"Where, oh fine maiden, do you wish to go now?" He asked when they were back in the Console room. Rose sat down before answering.

"How about Naples, the time we were supposed to go to instead of ending up in Cardiff."

The Doctor grinned at her.

"Done."

He pulled some leavers and soon the familiar Dematerialisation sequence had started to soothe Rose's ears.

When the TARDIS finally landed, The Doctor told rose to go and find something suitable to wear, in the hopes she would choose a dress in the style of the one she wore in Cardiff.

Upon her return from the wardrobe room, The Doctor could have sworn she had been swapped for an angel.

"You look…Fantastic." He stuttered. No I considering /I this time.

She blushed.

"Thanks. Are you not getting changed?"

"Why break the tradition?" The Doctor grinned cheekily before offering Rose his arm.

He opened the door and stepped out into…a dark room.

"What?" The Doctor stuttered.

Something moved in the corner of the room, and a light was switched on.

"What?" The Doctor asked again. Instead of a reply, he got a terrified scream from the teenage girl in her bed.

"Ah." He stated. "Not 1860 Naples then" A light flicked on in the landing and the Doctor pushed Rose back into the ship.

"Well, see ya." he said rather meekly and closed the door of the TARDIS. Within moments, the dematerialisation sequence had started and they were gone, leaving the terrified girl in her bed.

Screaming once again as the Police Box disappeared; Thirteen-year-Old Bronte Jennings went into a paralysed state of shock.

Blaire Jennings stood outside Palmers High School for Girls with her group of friends. She was of a medium build, very thin and had dark brown hair put up in a loose ponytail. On her shoulder was a Prada messenger bag; on her feet she wore the finest Italian shoes. Her friends were practically clones, their appearance differing in hair colour. She huddled them all together on that Monday morning to explain to them what had happened the previous night.

"Bronte thinks she saw a 1960's Police Box materialise in her room and she says two people got out. One was a man with a _Brown Pinstripe suit and a brown trench coat with scruffy converse on_ ", One of the girls, Devan, flinched at the description. " And a bottle blonde girl wearing a Victorian dress. Mummy and daddy are thinking of having her see a psychiatrist to interpret her dreams. I'm just warning you, she's acting a little crazy at the moment and is insisting she's telling the truth." Blaire trailed off as she saw her twin sister walk up the school drive way.

"Bronte!" Devan smiled and hugged her friend. Bronte pulled away, slightly ruffled and smiled weakly.

"You're never going to guess what happened last night!" she said as they walked to their form room, " A '60's Police Box appeared in my room and two people got out! The first was a man in a _ terrible _brown suit and the next was a blonde girl with an old fashioned dress on! I don't know why they were there, but I swear they were!" She looked at her friends and saw the pained expressions they were giving one another.

"Honey, do you think you could have been dreaming?" A blonde girl, Valerie asked kindly.

"NO! I wasn't dreaming!" She defended.

"And we believe you, Bee, it's just a bit…. Strange." Blaire placed an arm around her sister's shoulder.

"That's the POINT!" Bronte shouted, attracting some unwanted attention. " I want to know why they were there!"

She growled in frustration and stormed off in the direction of her form room. She knew they had been in her room! She knew they were the people she had met a few days earlier on that secret trip to the Powell Estate. All she had to do was convince someone she wasn't crazy.

** An: ok. What did you think? Please review:D. I would seriously like to know what you think of this chapter. :)**


	4. The familiar girl

**An: Ok, thank you to I Am Bad Wolf (of for beta reading, and thanks to Devan.Snape for just being a friend and telling me the story's good. I don't own either Doctor who or Torchwood (Airs this Sunday on BBC 3, can't wait!) This story is mainly a tribute to Russell T Davies who does such a good job on the shows. Oh, and Doomsday never happened (in this story at least).  
enjoy-  
**

2006-

Bronte walked ahead of her sister and Devan, trying to get her head around the sick worry in her stomach. Devan called out to her and she stopped to wait for the two girls.

"So, what did you say your imaginary Police Box people looked like?" Devan giggled. Bronte glared at her.

"You don't believe me, do you? Is it so much to beli…." She stopped short. There in the trees, behind the school was a 1960's Police Box. Seeing Bronte's reaction, Blaire and Devan turned around.

"Oh my god." Blaire whispered.

Bronte ran ahead, impatiently running to the big blue box. She looked around the outside and tried to open the doors.

"It won't open." Said Devan, stating the blind obvious.

The three girls looked in awe at the structure, each with a different theory of its existence.

A rustle of trees brought them back to reality as a low growl sounded from the site.

"What was that?" Blaire quipped.

The growl came again, this time louder as if closer.

"Now, I didn't imagine that." Bronte clasped her sister's hand.

They stepped backward, just in time to see the creature jump out at them.

2018-

The microwave beeped, signalling that the instant meal was done. Bronte picked up her oven glove and pierced the film, while balancing the cordless phone on her shoulder as she spoke to her sister.

"Yes, Blaire, you heard me correctly, I'm going to New York to be the second assistant to the editor-in-chief of Vogue magazine." She rolled her eyes at her twin's enthusiasm at the subject.

"I can't believe it! If I knew you get assignments like that, I would have joined MI6 with you!" Blaire's shrill voice squeaked in glee.

"Well, you can have it! I hate my job! I don't WANT to go to Paris Fashion week, I don't want to have to be both an undercover agent and the lackey of someone they nick name 'The Devil Woman'!" Bronte picked up a fork at took a bite of the ready-made lasagne.

"Oh, come on! You know Anna Wintour left Vogue years ago!"

"You're not helping." Bronte looked over her files, as her sibling nattered on about the latest models and designs. She tuned her out until something was said the left alarm bells ringing in Bronte's head.

"What did you say?" Bronte asked.

"About Beauchamp? I was just saying that they're neck and neck with Chanel and Prada in the winter fashions range. They're the fastest growing designer known. Not even the greats became such bets sellers in such little time."

Bronte and Blaire spoke for a while longer, finally hanging up around Midnight.

Bronte sat down on her bed, thinking in detail about the events of years before, about how nothing had really changed in the term of homes, televisions, phones, and food…. Some things had changed; they now drove eco-friendly cars, smoking was less common and blistering cold winters were guaranteed. She thought about the latter as she slipped into a memory filled sleep.

_'2006 –_

_The next thing I knew, I was running, separated from the other two, I was on my own. I didn't really know where I was going; all I knew was the creature was chasing me._

_I ran behind an oak tree, tripping over a fallen log as I went, twisting my ankle. The creature saw me, lying on the ground and I froze. It was like no earth creature. The size of a bear and the width of a gorilla, it loomed over me, a hungry look in its blood red eyes. There are no words to describe the terror I felt, the way those eyes bore into my soul and punctured my very being. I knew what was coming. I was going to die. My life was going to stop. I would never meet the people I wanted to meet. I would never experience my first kiss; I would never be in love or be married. I would never see my sweet sixteen, I would never have children and I would never grow old._

_I closed my eyes for the blow, the searing pain that was inevitable, the stopping of blood flow. But it never came._

_Opening an eye, I sat up. The Creature was frozen, it's eyes a bright yellow. Slowly, I looked around to see a pair of Converse trainers.'_

(2018)

Bronte was woken suddenly by the sound of her mobile ringing.

"What the fuck?" She groaned and reached out to silence the phone.

With blurred vision, she checked the name displayed on the screen. 'JACK'.

She flipped open the phone and answered abruptly.

"What the fuck do you want? Do you know that it's Three fucking am?!" She yelled down the small device.

"Whoa. Easy there Bronte, some of us are just as tired as you." Jack's voice sounded drained, yet he kept up his openly flirtatious tone.

"What is it, Jack?"

"That's Captain Jack to you. Anyway, you need to get down here, we leave for New York in eight hours and you need to file your fake visa."

"Can't I just do that later?" She asked, fiddling with the switch on a table lamp.

"No can do, you have to get your rather cute butt down here now."

"You're a charmer, Jack, a real charmer."

"Don't ya know it. See ya in a bit." And he hung up.

Throwing the phone down onto the bed, Bronte quickly ran to grab a shower.

Half an hour later, Bronte Jennings stepped out of the lift onto the third floor, walking straight past personnel and down the corridor to the observatory. The building was quite spooky with no one about. Dismissing the eeriness as trivial, Bronte straightened her skirt before she typed in the access code. She had quickly dressed in a dark denim skirt and a purple blouse. She leant back on her stiletto heels as she waited for the code to be processed. The door unlocked and she walked in to find Jack once again hunched over some paper work at the main desk. He looked up to greet her and stopped. She felt self-conscious, as his eyes very obviously looked her up and down, resting in places they shouldn't. She looked down at herself. Maybe her skirt _was_ a little short… and her blouse was unbuttoned a fair way, showing much more of her neckline than she usually did. Eagerly wanting to break the awkward silence, she coughed.

"See something you like?" She laughed.

"Maybe." Jack replied. Almost too seriously.

Jack grinned and presented a wad of documents.

"These are your visa forms and here" he picked up a file " is your description." He flipped the description open as Bronte sat down on one of the desks.

"You are a trained fashion adviser, with journalistic ambitions. You were born in London and you moved to Cambridge when you were eleven. You love Vogue magazine and have read it since you were thirteen and your daddy bought you your first pair of Jimmy Choos."

"That's not true!" Bronte quipped "I was twelve when daddy bought me my first pair of Jimmy Choos."

Jack smiled again. This smile unnerved her a little. It wasn't a smile she recognised – and she wasn't sure if that was good or bad.

"Your name is Bronte Isabella Johnson."

She merely nodded and picked up a pen to fill in the visa. Leaning the paper on the desk, she started to fill in the required information. Still a little unnerved by Jack, she wrote as quickly as possible, yet found her mind wandering to the man behind her. I what was he thinking? Why was he moving around? What did he mean by 'Maybe'/I

Her thoughts started to drive her crazy, until finally all came to a climax when her pen leaked.

_'Twice in one bloody day!'_

"Shit!" She swore, trying to prevent the ink from ruining the document. From somewhere behind her, she heard Jack turn around.

"You okay?" He asked, moving a step forward.

"Uh, yeah. My pen just leaked." She grabbed around for a tissue. _'Where's the Doctor and his bloody tissues when you bloody well need them?_' Bronte instantly regretted her thought. She heard Jack shift and walk towards her.

"Here." He handed piece of tissue to her.

"Thanks" she replied meekly.

Dabbing at the paperwork, she carried on until her forged documents were complete.

As she and Jack left the tower block, she noticed the light of daybreak twinkling out across the river. She checked her watch. It said 5 am. Sighing deeply and trudging to her car, Bronte tried to drown out the realisation that she had to be on a seven-hour flight to New York in five hours.

A small ball of tension flared in her stomach and she suddenly craved nicotine. Although smoking wasn't normal for Bronte, It was her sister who smoked like a chimney; she did smoke a lot when she was stressed. Most of the time she was cigarette free – but at extreme times in her life, her Army training for example, she had leaned heavily on her sister's habit.

Thinking about where she could find some form of legal cigarette at 5 in the morning, Bronte pulled out of the car park. She saw Jack on the right, obviously walking to the Torchwood accommodation provided for transferred specialists. She often wondered what was up with him. It was a demanding job, too true, yet he always seemed to be unnaturally angry and dark. He was flirtatious and could crack the odd joke, but there was some unidentified darkness about him that made him so…sexy. Deciding that she needed to get home, she dismissed her thoughts, ready for then to be reconsidered tomorrow. At the present time however, she had to pack for a two-week operation and get some sleep –picking up cigarettes on the way.

_2006-_

_It was him. The man on the Powell estate, the man who had appeared in her room the previous night – the man who had named himself 'The Doctor'._

_The Doctor was holding a small silver device that glowed blue at the end, pointing it at the creature._

_I shuffled behind him, as he moved forward, never breaking eye contact with the creature as he did. Moving with unbelievable speed and whispering in a forgotten language, the Doctor leapt forward – just not fast enough to get the creature. It dematerialised before my eyes, completely baffling me. Brain working overtime, the pain in my leg had been numbed by my confusion. It was only when the Doctor turned around to look at me in noticed the blood drenching my left leg._

_"Who are you?" He asked._

_"Who are you?" I asked. He looked at my leg and helped my up, calling out to someone in the meantime._

_A blonde haired girl wearing a rather tacky hooded top came running over to the Doctor's aid. I remembered from our encounter a few days prior that she was Rose._

_"Oh my god, what happened?" Rose screeched._

_"A Kelpkoff decided to try and make her lunch." The Doctor explained._

_"A WHAT?!" I shouted, trying to keep my balance between the two strangers._

_They ignored me and helped me to the pavement._

_"I remember you now!" Rose exclaimed "You were at the Powell estate the other day! Bronte was it?"_

_"Yes, that's correct." I spoke through the pain._

_"Ah." The Doctor stood fixated at nothing in particular, yet seemed distant to the two girls._

_I turned suddenly as I heard two petrified screams. My sister and my best friend ran out of a collection of trees –terrified. One of those creatures was following them and it was gaining on them._

_The Doctor suddenly sprang into action and ran in the direction of the trees. It was at this point the pain sharpened and my senses dulled. It was a matter of seconds before the lights went out and I passed out_.

(2018)

Bronte was once again awoken abruptly. This time it was by her alarm clock telling her it was 7am. Sitting up in her bed, Bronte swore quietly, cursing the fact that once again morning had come. Quickly remembering that she had a plane to catch in three hours, she clambered out of her warm bed and padded to the kitchen. Putting a piece of bread in the toaster and pushing down the lever then picking up the kettle and moving it to the sink where she filled it with water, Bronte looked out of the window and sighed. In retrospective, her life wasn't so bad. She had a nice home, a job and a caring family. On the other hand, her dreams were haunted by the terrifying events of her early adolescent years and most of her co-workers hated her. At least today she didn't need a cigarette. Looking up at the clock over the sink, Bronte dropped the kettle and ran to grab a shower, cursing herself at her wasted time.


End file.
